letting silence in
what gripes are in the way?
Hi dear friend! I’m grateful you’re here. For those of you new to knowing thyself, a warm welcome and a high five. Isn’t this how we uncover life’s wealth—giggling together over our souls’ yearnings, letting our hearts converse?
Well, if you don’t giggle, please accept this invitation. I’m not sure there’s anything funnier in existence than the lodging of our loving light in these loyal but cumbersome meat suits.
Please let me know if you disagree. And be sure to have a look around the site. Surely, you’ll find reason to giggle there— even if it’s just at my persistent efforts to speak into a void and eagerly await an answer. Hello!?
(Ah! Maybe this is how I came to be friends with silence.)
Anyhoo!
This month, we’ve been contemplating the quiet. Please come along to the online Spring Retreat— Questions and Answers for the Quiet. We’ll meet via zoom on Saturday, March 29 from 10am to 11am pacific. If you haven’t already, please let me know if you’d like to attend! Just send a note.
To prep for next Saturday, I’ve shared techniques to tour the foreign land of silence and its wonders. If you’ve followed the guided meditations, you’ve met a favorite poem of mine. It steadies me with a firm “I am” when the earth’s spin and din get wild. Here it is…
Today, we’ll walk quietly through the poem, noticing why we fill silence instead of letting it flow. We might even see that silence is full in itself—its wisdom just waiting for our ears.
Which brings me to a little dare, dear friend. Be honest with yourself: name your favorite topics of complaint.
We all have them.
Government. Money. Partners. Children. Neighbors. Jobs.
Body. Food. Parents.
God.
When we own our list, we can feel the energy we pour into it. We might hunt for reasons to justify our gripes—and find them. We might sharpen our words—and say them. We might bond with friends over shared grievances and one-up them. We form grievance teams, trashing the ways of any other team. We go to war with the way things are…
Funny thing about the way things are? They’re always shifting. Whatever territory we claim, we’ll surrender it in the end.
Complaining is a masterclass in unhappiness. Our victories are always Pyrrhic. This, friends, is how I stopped lawyering and started loving the world. Every lawsuit begins with a complaint and ends in partial defeat for all. In love, though it’s harder work, everyone grows stronger.
The world is full of thorns and rocks. Still, as Ramana Maharshi said, we don’t need to lay leather over the whole earth—just our feet. We choose our steps through the sharp places, focusing on the path between troubles, not the troubles themselves.
Something fascinating happens when we do.
To step carefully, we slow down. Our senses wake up to softer spaces. We discover the mystery in our tangles with difficulty—the injury and the healing, the pain and the compassion. We know one through the other. Our dance with rocks and thorns shifts as we learn to tread lightly where we can. So does our dance with resilience. When we stumble, the hard surfaces help us rise.
In place of complaint, quiet grows. In place of distaste, reverence blooms. In quiet, our hearts spark with potential.
As Spring unfolds, notice this: most of our grumbles come from change. We loved something and lost it. We liked shiny things ‘til they scratched. We had a good routine ‘til the season shifted.
We don’t cling to winter when flowers poke through, so why grip old patterns that can’t live in a new season? Let the snow melt. Let the flowers bloom. Soon, another season will roll in, and the flowers will fall to seed. Step lightly and marvel instead of moan. We all cycle together—fast and slow, our waves of change mingle and flow where they will.
Let’s not miss it in complaint. Let’s be quieter together, awed by our growth. Let’s laugh when we stumble, knowing it complements silence like birds at dawn. And let’s offer kind words for the many ways we rise—again and again, as we will.
Today, please listen to the third meditation in our March silence series. Feel the difference between quiet acceptance and complaint. We’re nearing the end of Rilke’s poem—stay tuned for that, plus thoughts on silence as a way to let God love us. That’s coming soon.
Thank you for taking the time. Let me know what you discovered!
Please join me for our Spring online retreat: Questions and Answers for the Quiet.
We’ll meet via zoom on Saturday, March 29 from 10am to 11am pacific. During this time, we’ll be quiet together, listening to our bodies, our breath, our questions, and the quiet voice within.
Everyone is welcome to join; the retreat is free for paid subscribers or friends are welcome to share $25 to the cause! Thank you to those of you who have RSVP’d. If you’d like to join, please send me a note and I’ll put you on the list.
Finally, I hope you’ll share the invitation with friends.
Thank you for being you. If you’d like to explore the previous meditations, find them here:
Week 1:
the sounds of silence
Dear friends, thank you for being here. Thank you for being you. Thank you for making space to consider the ways we might enjoy knowing ourselves… and our commitment to the endeavor.
Week 2:
